In China, it pays to ask twice whether something is really on the right side of the law

In the early hours of a chilly morning in February, Chinese police conducted a raid on a party in the southern city of Shenzhen. It was reported on widely, even reaching U.K. national newspapers. Hundreds of foreigners were detained overnight—including me.

I had been going to parties organized by the Real Deal group in Asia for years, and the flier for this one noted it was the four-year anniversary show, featuring DJ Frankie Lam from Hong Kong. Many of my friends, both Chinese and expats, enjoyed these events – these raves, with their electronic music – because they were different from the usual nightclub scene. Little did my girlfriend and I know how this party would end, however.

The event took place at a pedestrian tunnel under a highway near an Ikea store and furniture mall in Shenzhen’s Nanshan district. It wasn’t the first party in the place many call the “Ikea tunnel.” The DJ stage, powered by generators, was set up under the tunnel. Drinks were sold on the sidelines. Even local street-food vendors parked around the periphery to sell snacks such as pancakes and tofu. Hundreds attended, about half were Chinese and half foreigners. Some danced and many more hung around drinking beers and meeting new people.

Flier for the February Real Deal rave in Shenzhen.

Staying out later than planned, I was sitting on a curb with my girlfriend at about 3:40 a.m., chatting with an American friend, when suddenly I noticed flashlights pointed at us. The music immediately halted, as if the power had been unplugged. It took me a moment to process, but then I realized that police were marching down the sidewalk.

In China, large public gatherings usually need some sort of permission. Shenzhen, known as a technology hub, attracts engineers, designers and entrepreneurs, many from the U.S. and Europe. All kinds of professionals were attracted to Real Deal raves, and most people assumed the venue was legitimate because it was openly advertised. We had no idea it was an unlicensed event.

At the same time, it wasn’t unheard of for parties to be shut down. The rules in China are just not always clear. For example, while motorbike taxis are ubiquitous throughout the city, apparently they are prohibited, at least on the books. Every once in a while, the police ban them in an area of the city. A week later, I see them back—business as usual.

At the party, I initially thought people were overreacting. As my girlfriend and I started quickly walking away, the crowd began running past us.

Once I saw the barricade, I realized it was serious. A row of officers surrounded all sides, from the tunnel openings to sidewalk exits and all around the mall parking lot. They held large plastic shields and batons. Senior officers with guns shouted on loudspeakers in both English and Chinese, demanding that everyone sit down and turn off their phone cameras.

I knew then that there was nothing to do but cooperate. Most did cooperate, but those who argued with the police and tried to leave were handcuffed.

“This is unprecedented,” my friend said, stunned.

We all sat on the cement and grass for the better part of an hour, confused and wondering what would happen next. Most people thought there were too many of us for the authorities to arrest everyone.

Eventually, police formed partygoers into lines and marched them onto a dozen police buses parked outside. About 50 people were loaded onto my bus, including my girlfriend and two friends, and driven to a police station. There, the police taped off a section of the lobby and told us we couldn’t leave. They unfolded metal chairs for us and asked us for our passport information. Expats are supposed to keep their passports on them at all times. Yet on this night, no one was reprimanded for not having a passport, as long as they could recite their passport number. Luckily for me, I know the number by heart.

The police drew numbers on our hands; I was 43. One officer who spoke English said that we could be detained for 24 hours “without arrest.”

Finally, the drug testing began. Everyone was told to urinate into a cup, and privacy was not a concern. While men could turn their backs, there was a camera in each stall. My girlfriend told me she was watched by a female police officer. Everyone was photographed holding their numbered cup and testing kits.

The results must have come quickly, because the police soon singled out one of my American friends. He was calmly escorted to another section of the station and we didn’t see him again that night. He later confirmed he had tested positive for marijuana.

It was a long night. The light of dawn arrived and people grew restless. I heard complaints grow louder in English, Mandarin and Spanish. Unable to sleep, we were all uncomfortable after sitting for hours in metal chairs. We realized we had tested negative for drugs, since we were not taken away, yet no one said when we would be allowed to leave. At last, the police told us they were looking up our passport numbers to make sure no one was overstaying their visa.

Finally, at almost 10 a.m., they called out our assigned numbers and we were allowed to exit one by one: “42! 43! 44!”

My girlfriend and I were happy to leave, of course, and grateful not to be in any further trouble. However, we were very worried about our friend who was still detained. Over the next week, we learned that he was held for five days. After he got out, he described having to watch anti-drug PowerPoint presentations and eat tasteless porridge. His employer, which runs an expat website, was told that he was detained. While it was embarrassing for him, he was not fired. Most importantly, he wasn’t deported. “I wasn’t even fined,” he said. Since then, our normal expat lives have resumed.

According to the press release from the Nanshan District Government, 491 people were detained that night: 118 tested positive for drug use, and 93 were held longer. (It’s not clear why apparently 25 people who tested positive for drugs were allowed to leave.) Of the 93 who were held, 50 were foreigners.

The initial ordeal is over, but we have no idea whether there will be consequences. Perhaps some of those 50 detained foreigners will have issues when they next apply for visas. In China, the rules and regulations are often ambiguous, though there is plenty of advice available for travelers and expats erring on the side of caution. Perhaps the raid was more about sending a message more than about catching criminals. If so, we got the message.